Watching for Comets
by SakuraMota
Summary: Once, he overheard one of Edelgard's mysterious pals call Byleth, "Fell Star." It made Claude envision a star that descended from the heavens to the ground below, shedding its light on the world, and he had to agree with the imagery. Byleth shone brighter than anything in the sky, a shooting star that came into his life and then left just as quickly as it arrived.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:** Hiya! My premiere Claude/Byleth fic, and it's inspired by a song, RIP. This is inspired by the song of the same name by the band Skillet. Give it a listen for full effect, it's good. I intended for it to be short, but it turned into a 10k MONSTER, so I decided to split it into 4 parts. Enjoy!

* * *

_Watching for Comets_

A Fire Emblem Three Houses Story

Chapter One

_You burn so bright, I see stars._

_The way you laugh is like a heavenly choir._

_You made me feel invincible._

_When you're with me, I can take on the world._

_You were a comet, and I lost it._

_Watching for comets, will I see you again?_

_You burn so bright, you burn me up tonight._

"_Now that we know each other, our hearts are connected. Even if our paths diverge, and we're forced to say good-bye...I know that we'll meet again."_

Word after word rolled off his tongue, and for a moment, Claude thought perhaps he laid it on a bit too thick. Sure, it was probably really sappy of him to tell her all this—to call her not just his teacher, but his friend—and his timing was horrible, what with the rest of the Golden Deer preparing for the Empire's assault on Garreg Mach, but something in him screamed that he needed to tell her, now, before the fighting broke out, before battle swept them into the nightmare on the horizon. For now, in this moment, he wanted Teach to know how much she meant to him, that he cared for her and valued their friendship tremendously.

He didn't expect the way she cocked her head, as if perplexed, until her lips curled into the broadest grin he'd ever seen from her, and the additional flutter of laughter—was she seriously _giggling_—sent a ripple through him from his toes to the crown of his head. It was rare for Byleth to laugh; hells, it was rare for Byleth to emote _anything_. Bit by bit in the almost year he'd known her, however, she'd slowly started to come out of that shell, or maybe he'd just gotten better at reading her, or both. She'd laughed only a handful of times before, usually while he told some preposterous story over tea, and each time filled him with a smug sense of satisfaction for breaking past her wall. No, his beloved Teach was a woman of few words and fewer expressions, but the smile she wore now was so genuine and so kind that his chest tightened.

"So what you're saying is, no matter what happens, I'm stuck with you," Byleth said, something playful dancing in her eyes.

He recognized the look as his own influence, reflecting back at him to ease the gravity of the moment. Grinning, he shrugged. "I know, I know, it's kind of a threat, isn't it," Claude said genially, tucking his hands behind his head.

She giggled again, and something swooped in his gut. That sound, that rare, floaty, beautiful sound of Byleth genuinely enjoying a conversation...he wanted to keep it forever. No more Garreg Mach, no more war, no more Empire or Kingdom or Alliance, just he and Byleth. He wanted her laughter and her smiles and her kindness all to himself. With her smile to strengthen him, Claude felt invincible. He could do anything, go anywhere, take on the world and shape it into the one in his dreams. Maybe he'd say as such when this battle met its end. He needed something to look forward to after the hell that awaited them.

"Well, if I had to be stuck with anyone, I'm glad it's you, Claude," she said, her eyes crinkling with a warmth he could _feel_ in his own body.

Why the hells was he blushing suddenly? And why was his heart threatening to burst out of his chest? Playing off his embarrassment, he huffed a chuckle. "Can't have you running off without your favorite student, can we?"

Byleth's eyebrows rose at this, and he expected some retort about how she didn't play favorites. Instead, however, her lips curved again, her eyes shutting in a way that made her look simultaneously serene and sly (It _really_ wasn't fair; how did he end up with the most impossibly gorgeous woman in existence as his teacher?). "I suppose we can't," she said.

His jaw fell in genuine shock. "So I _am_ your favorite!" Claude said, a grin of bewildered triumph on his face.

That same heavenly, damnable giggle that made his heart skip answered him, and she turned. "As you say," she said casually, but he could see the way the corners of her mouth quirked upward. "Come on. We need to join the others."

"Lead the way, my friend," he said amiably, following only a step behind her.

* * *

"Have you seen Teach?"

They lost. It was futile from the beginning, to be honest; the Imperial force greatly outnumbered them, even with..._whatever that thing was_ on their side. Once the Empire secured victory, they gathered the students together in a cluster for further instructions to evacuate the monastery. Claude weaved his way through the crowd, asking his question of any familiar face he saw. Each one shook their head in turn, and the coil of anxiety in his stomach clenched tighter and tighter. As he milled through the procession back into Garreg Mach—to collect their belongings and return to their home territories—he scanned the crowd, desperate for a flash of mint hair in the throng. He caught just that in his periphery, and, breaking rank, he cut through to get closer. Please be Byleth. Please be okay. He needed to know she was okay. He needed to tell her she could come home with him to Derdriu, that she'd be safe in Alliance territory. He needed her verdant eyes, altered from their original cobalt hue, to stare back at him with the understanding that they'd lost this battle but not the war. Together, they could turn this tide another day; he ached for that comfort like a knife in his heart.

It wasn't Byleth, but instead Lady Rhea, looking stern but submissive with a cohort of Imperial soldiers around her. If anyone knew where Teach was, it was Rhea. She seemed to watch Byleth like a wolf stalking a sheep, doubly so since that day Byleth's appearance changed. He had to chance it.

"Lady Rhea!" he called out, arm in the air to get her attention. She looked up at him in surprise, as did her cadry of guards, who advanced to stop his further approach. This was his one shot. "_Where is Professor Byleth?_" he shouted, even as the soldiers were upon him, grasping his shoulders to push him back.

Rhea looked at him with a blank gaze, as if she was staring through him, then she shut her eyes and turned her head.

Claude's heart sank somewhere into the ground as Imperial goons yelled at him to get back in line, shoving him away from the scene and back into the queue of students filing into the monastery.

No. It couldn't be true. He misinterpreted her body language. Byleth couldn't be dead. She just _couldn't_. Not Byleth, the Ashen Demon, the woman who fused with a goddess and cut a hole through the very fabric of reality, not...not his precious Teach. Not the woman who only hours ago giggled at his admission of sentiment, teasing him in a way he knew he'd taught her and that he treasured so, so much. The woman who gave him a wink and a nod before charging down the hill toward the fray, an unspoken promise that she would return. Something scalding burned in his throat, and he slumped his shoulders, accepting the aggressive handling of the soldiers.

He never saw Rhea again.

He...He never saw Byleth again.

* * *

Claude awoke with a groan, his arm bent over his head on the pillows. Of course. Of course he'd have that same dream, the same one that plagued him every year around this time...and any time he allowed himself to think about her. He stared at the ceiling in the predawn darkness, debating with himself if he should attempt to sleep some more or just prepare for the day early. Byleth's face, frowning at him in scolding for not getting enough rest, swam to the front of his mind, and he swallowed, burying it again. Silently, he slipped from beneath the comforter, and his bare feet lapped against tile as he paced the short distance to his bedroom's balcony.

Ethereal Moon kept the air severely frigid despite the lack of snow, but he ignored that as he stepped out onto the terrace, barefooted and in thin pajamas; if anything, the shock of brisk weather slapped him out of his post-dream stupor. Derdriu sprawled before him, pitch black save for a few flickering watch fires in the distance. The Alliance's capital, unmarred thus far by the hellish assault of Edelgard. On the horizon, dawn threatened, the faint glow of the new day barely tinting the furthest reaches of the sky. His gaze landed above him, however, staring into the deep blue of the waning night sky, his one source of solace dwindling with the advent of daybreak. Looking at the stars always grounded him, more than anything else in his entire life. It was hard to find your troubles significant when staring into the infinite depths of the cosmos. He'd spent quite a bit of time in the past five years on this very balcony, losing his worries over squabbling lords, Imperial oppression, and barely keeping the Alliance from breaking apart at the seams. The chill of the balcony's stone wall comforted him as he folded his arms atop it, eyes still transfixed on the few lights that dappled the ever-brightening sky.

Once, he overheard one of those mysterious enemies that turned out to be Edelgard's pals call Byleth, "Fell Star." It made Claude envision a star that descended from the heavens to the ground below, shedding its light on the world, and he had to agree with the imagery. Byleth shone brighter than anything in the sky, a shooting star that came into his life and then left just as quickly as it arrived. Her light..._His_ light...it wasn't truly gone, was it? He had to keep believing. He had to hold onto hope. If he lost that too, then what else did he have left? Slouching into the wall, Claude buried his chin into his crossed arms, his thin beard scuffing against his hands. Beards were a badge of honor in Almyran culture, a symbol of maturing into manhood, but damn it all if his mother's Fódlan genes hadn't severely incapacitated his ability to grow one. An accent to his jawline was the best his mixed blood could muster, sadly, but he still took pride in it nonetheless. He amused himself for a moment with the thought of Byleth's reaction to it, to him.

He'd changed. He was no longer that mischievous boy who supposed himself a man, manipulating his way into getting exactly what he wanted. Next year's Blue Sea Moon would mark his twenty-fourth year, and his seventh in Fódlan. Things certainly had gone to hells since he first arrived in Alliance territory, bearing the Riegan Crest and presenting himself to his now-departed grandfather. The man had never approved of his parents' relationship—it's why Claude's mother fled across the border to marry his father, after all—and he doubly didn't approve of Claude and his mixed race, at least at first. Claude had no misconceptions about his inheritance of the Riegan estate; had it not been for his uncle's untimely death and the Crest of Riegan gifted to Claude at birth, he never would have gained his grandfather's approval. To his credit, though, the old man did soften toward him considerably over time and especially before his death, to the point that Claude felt his grandfather was, in fact, proud of him. Proof that given the opportunity, the people of both Fódlan and Almyra could learn to understand each other, just like he'd always dreamed.

His dreams...Funny, for all his yearning to build his new world, he now couldn't imagine it being as bright and utopian without Byleth by his side. He missed her. Hells, it was more than missing at this point. He _pined_ for her, ached to see that radiant mop of unevenly-styled seafoam hair, to hear that sweet trill of her laughter again. He no longer fooled himself, brushing away his own feelings out of embarrassment or some damnable need to consider their relationship platonic. No, he was older now, which had to mean he was wiser, right? Regardless, he didn't deny it. He loved Byleth. Claude loved her more than he ever thought was possible in a man. Being apart all this time, not knowing where she was or if she was even alive, shattered his heart into tiny pieces that he then painstakingly reassembled until the next time he crumbled under the weight of longing for her. To be certain, he had plenty of activity to distract him during the day, and he put on a strong front of his typical airy demeanor, but the nights...alone with his thoughts and his heartache, the nights brought him nothing but personal misery. And so, in an effort to shake himself out of his doldrums, he turned to the stars, to the one comfort he had left.

Dawn crept ever closer in the distance, the stars fading until he could no longer see them. Sighing through his nose, he straightened, retreating to the warmth of his bedchamber to begin the day.

He'd see her again. He'd bet his life on it.


	2. Chapter 2

_Watching for Comets_

A Fire Emblem Three Houses Story

Chapter Two

_Everybody needs someone, but they can't feel like this._

_How can I breathe with this burning in my chest?_

_You were gone so fast._

_I want you back._

"Claude!"

Startled from his map reading, Claude glanced up and found a shock of pink hair in the doorway to his study. Attached to it, of course, was Hilda, no less chipper than she'd been in as long as he'd known her, despite the gruesome times they lived in currently. Putting on his most charming smile, he stood straight from his hunched position over the table. "Hilda! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"My brother," Hilda sighed as she joined him at the table in the center of the room, several maps, topped with carved wooden figures in various locations, scattered on its surface. "He needed to send you this report from the border, and I hadn't seen you in a while, so I decided to be generous and play messenger," she continued, retrieving an envelope from the bag at her hip and handing it to him. Brightening a bit, she winked at him, adding, "You can show your gratitude with dessert, if you please."

Chuckling, Claude shook his head as he placed the letter from Holst on the table for later reading. "I'm sure the kitchen can more than accommodate you on that," he said.

"So, how've you been, Claude?" she asked, her head tilting a bit in a curious manner; he recognized it as her, "probing for gossip," expression.

"About as well as I can be, I suppose," he sighed, turning back to the table and the many maps spread across it. "All the nobles are squabbling, about half of them think I'm unfit to run the Alliance, and the other half _knows_ I'm not. Empire's still being a pain in the ass, so, you know...same old, same old."

"I wasn't talking about politics, dummy," Hilda huffed, hands on her hips. "How are _you_ doing, Claude. Any life developments your dear friend Hilda should know about?"

Her smile prodded, but in that unassuming way she so carefully perfected. Claude arched an eyebrow at her. "Such as…?"

"Oh, I dunno. Talk around the Alliance is you should be thinking about tying the knot, producing some heirs in case you end up dead in the war."

All pleasantries lost, Claude snorted. "Nice to hear the aristocracy have such strong confidence in my abilities," he said grumpily, turning back to the table and picking up a sheet of paper. "Also, do any of these assholes consider the fact that my trying to keep us _afloat _in said war leaves me _zero_ time to have a social life?"

"Hey, don't get mad at me," Hilda said, her hands up in surrender. "I'm just passing along the hot goss. I figured I'd at least ask you about it."

"You just wanted bragging rights if I _was_ seeing someone," he grumbled, picking up his quill to continue marking his map with the report in his hand.

"Hey now, I only have your best interests at heart, and you know it," she said, her facade cracking to give him a pointed leer.

"Mm-hmm, sure," Claude hummed, half ignoring her now. They stood in silence for a short space of time, his quill scratches accenting the lull in conversation. Hesitating before marking an X on another area, he commented in a quieter voice, "So...next week is when the Millennium Festival was to be held, you know."

Hilda stood in place, studying him with a look that slowly slipped into one of pity. "Ah. I should have known. No wonder you're so bitchy about your love life."

"_Bitchy?_" he repeated, dropping his report and tossing his quill into the inkwell with distaste. "What are you getting at?"

The empathy in her eyes deepened, and for some reason, that irritated him. "Oh, Claude...Five years, and you're still carrying that candle."

Yep, definitely irritated now. His eyebrows knitted into a line, his forehead wrinkling with his glower. "What in the seven hells is _that_ supposed to mean?" he asked, knowing full well _exactly_ what it meant.

Hilda sighed, her consoling look wasted on his growing annoyance. "It's not healthy, you know. The rest of us, we've come to accept it...to accept that she's gone. But you refuse to acknowledge it, pining on endlessly like your feelings will change history."

A vein pulsed in his temple, his anger so ablaze in his chest that he returned to his maps to control himself. In a voice he intended to be clipped but betrayed the strain in his throat, Claude said, "No idea what you're talking about, Hilda."

"...Yeah, that's bullshit."

Startled, he glanced up at her again. It was rare for Hilda to swear; she insisted she was, "far too delicate to use such coarse language." Yet here she was, leering and hurling yet another curse at him. He blinked, mind whirring for a proper response. Settling on sarcasm, he opened his mouth to retort. "My my, such foul language from the flower of Goneril—"

"_Stuff it_,_ idiot_," Hilda hissed, glowering at him with fire in her eyes. "_You_," she said, poking him in the chest, "have been head over heels for Professor Byleth since our Academy days. And _you_," she jabbed him again, "are the one who refuses to accept that whether in another country or dead, she's _not _coming back."

He stared at her, jaw clenching, expression hardened, his eyes distancing himself from this conversation with every second. Turning to his maps again, he said softly, "...There was no body, Hilda."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Then she was either captured by the Empire or left Fódlan behind her."

"Teach wouldn't abandon us," said Claude, shooting her a stern look. "Not when we need her most. If you think that, then you clearly didn't know her the way I did."

"Well sure," Hilda said, holding her arm at the elbow to prop a hand on her cheek, "_no one_ knew Professor B the way you did. Not Leonie, myself, or the rest of the Golden Deer, including the students she somehow roped into joining our class. You were her favorite, Claude, and we all knew it." Expression softening, she added, "And we all knew how you felt about her. And how she felt about you."

Claude chuckled humorlessly. "Nice to know you were all so invested in my personal life," he muttered, eyeing his maps.

"It's not like we had to try very hard," she sighed. "It was incredibly obvious to anyone with a brain. Unfortunately for you two, you both shared half of the same mind, so you could never see it." When he said nothing in response, she pressed onward. "We all want her to be alive, truly, we do. I get letters from our friends in Faerghus and even the Empire all the time, and they all say the same thing. 'I wish the Professor was here.' But…" She sighed, her fingers lacing together in front of her, eyes downcast, "we have to face the reality that's in front of us. The reality that she's _not_ here, and there's no telling if she ever _will be_ again."

"She will be," Claude said gravely, leaning his palms on the table. "I know she will."

Hilda shook her head, defeated. "Look, Claude, you're my closest friend," she said. "I'd even say you're my best friend if it didn't sound so juvenile." His lips twitched just slightly, so she continued. "I just...I don't want you hurting next week if it doesn't happen," she said, her voice bordering on a whisper. "You have to promise me that if that happens...if she's not there...that you'll let her go. For your own sake. We need you, Claude. The Golden Deer need you. The Alliance needs you. And this...apathetic depression you've been in all this time that's had you doing the bare minimum to put out fires all over the region...it's not enough any more. We need that tactical genius you let die that day to help us survive."

He merely sniffed in reply, his fingers splayed on the tabletop as he leaned over it. After an agonizing moment of silence, he whispered, "...Ask the kitchen staff for that dessert you wanted."

Recognizing this meant the conversation was over, Hilda nodded, excusing herself. At the doorway, she turned to him. "Claude." He didn't look up. "I'll be there on the 25th, but only because you're my friend and I want to support you." With that accomplished, she slipped out the door, shutting it behind her.

Claude hooked his fingers under a nearby chair and dragged it to him, sinking into it, his forehead meeting the table. Arms folding around his face, he sat in silence, his heart yet again fractured into a thousand pieces.

* * *

The evening of the 22nd arrived much slower than Claude wanted. The days leading up to it were full of bureaucracy, agonizingly-long meetings, report after report after report. But at last, the 22nd arrived, and as soon as he completed his last duty of the day, he retreated to his bedchamber to prepare. He packed his provisions without a word, the quiet activity comforting his jangling nerves. Tomorrow, he'd leave at dawn, making the flight across the Alliance territory to Garreg Mach. He intended to arrive a day early and stay a day later, just in case Byleth lost track of the date. Fitful sleep plagued him that night, an obnoxious cycle of tossing, turning, waking, and dozing again, until finally, at three a.m., he decided enough was enough, and he slipped out of bed early.

Eda, his wyvern, merely lifted her head in curiosity as he approached her stable, laden with his baggage. She was a Riegan-bred beast, about a year older than the one he'd raised back home in Almyra, his albino named Cormag. Cormag had been the runt and reject of his clutch, shunned for his coloring and intended for release to die. That's probably why Claude zeroed in on him the day he was brought to impress a hatchling wyvern. There was nothing wrong with the dragonette—just a different shade and a bit on the small side—and Claude immediately resonated with the way the breeders spoke of the white with disdain. There really was no other choice, in Claude's eyes. Eda, for her part, was much more reserved than the energetic Cormag, but her patience struck a chord with Claude, which was why he chose her as his regular mount. She didn't fuss a whit as he saddled her and then secured his various belongings for the trip. Once all was in order, he hoisted onto her back with the ease of a well-practiced rider and taxied her out of the stable.

He'd bundled for the cold trip ahead of them, but the sting of the air as it rushed against his face made him grimace. To be sure, Claude relished the freedom of flight, the beat of Eda's wings a steady, comforting drone as she worked against the currents to carry them aloft, but the winter's brutality would chill him to his very core by day's end. Retrieving a woolen scarf from a saddle pouch, he wrapped his head and face as best he could, shielding out some of the cold. If they flew straight, stopping only for meals and to warm by a fire a bit, they could cross the bulk of the Alliance's territory today, camping for the night in a field along the way. After that, it was just a few hours flight to Garreg Mach, putting his arrival time around early to mid-morning on the 24th. With any luck, they'd have an uneventful trip. Despite the weather and the early hour, the thud of his heart in his ribcage kept him warm and alert, the burning in his chest centered around one thought:

Byleth. Byleth Byleth Byleth Byleth _Byleth_. He needed to see her again, to recommit every facet of her to his memory. With Byleth by his side again, he could finally move forward. The past five years hung over him like a curse, a stagnant pool of politics, war, and melancholy. But no more. In a few days' time, they'd be together again, and a new dawn would rise over Fódlan. He had no doubts in his mind.

She'd be there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** Guess who got the month wrong in Chapter 1 and stealth-fixed it after posting Chapter 2. _

Also, while I've tried to keep a weekly update schedule, I'm participating in Fire Emblem Rarepair Week next week (hopefully)! If it goes well, I'll still post Chapter 4 (the final chapter and where all the Happy Ending is for this Angst), but if it doesn't go well, I _mayyyyyy_ scootch it into the week after. Keep an eye out!

* * *

_Watching for Comets_

A Fire Emblem Three Houses Story

Chapter Three

_Say my name, I'll be there._

_I didn't know, should've said that you cared._

_It's not too late for broken hearts._

_Take my hand, make a wish on a star._

"I'll take this one, please."

The florist, an elderly woman with more laugh lines than wrinkles, retrieved the small bouquet the man indicated in her cart. "That'll be 850 gold, dear," she said, smiling kindly at him.

The young man—and he was young, probably in his early twenties—returned her smile, and she could tell from that expression alone that this one was a charmer. Come to think of it, though, he looked somewhat familiar…

"I've seen you before, haven't I?" she asked as the young man counted currency in his gloved palm.

"It's possible," he said with a quirked grin. "I travel a lot, so I've probably come through this village before."

"Yes…" the old woman said, staring up at his face, her expression indicating her brain was whirring to place him. "...Yes! I remember now! You came here last year, around this same timeframe, in fact. And the year before, didn't you?"

"Guilty as charged, milady," he said with a chuckle, holding out his hand to trade his payment. "You've been a great help to me these past few years."

"Ahh, these are for your anniversary, aren't they?" she said with a knowing smile as she exchanged the bouquet with him. "Handsome thing like you, I'll bet she's a vision of loveliness."

The man grinned, but something about his expression seemed pained; his smile didn't reach his eyes. "She most definitely is," he said, closing his forrest green eyes. Raising the paper-wrapped flowers to rest on his shoulder, he gave her a genial wave. "Take care, miss."

"You too, dear. I hope she likes them!"

Once he'd paced a fair distance away, Claude lowered the flowers in front of him, eyes studying them. The assorted array of pink and white jumped out at him for the very distinct contrasting third color: a rich seafoam green that was probably unnatural and was bred or dyed to achieve the vibrant hue. He'd stopped in this village, closest to the monastery, and released Eda to hunt on her own, only a whistle away if he needed her, as part of his annual tradition. Hilda would probably gut him if she knew he'd come back to Garreg Mach around this time every year since the battle, just on the slim chance Byleth would appear. Thus far, she had not, but then, he knew the futility of it every year, despite being unable to resist the need to return. This year was different, though. It had been five years, just like they promised.

The trek to the monastery was quiet; it was still early morning, after all. Walking the trail through the treeline, their branches empty from the winter chill, he couldn't help remembering taking this same path all those years ago. Dimitri and Edelgard had been there, along with his stone-faced Teach and her father, Jeralt Eisner. Today's atmosphere differed from the light, airy mood back then. Clouds blanketed the sky, casting a gray gloom over the world, a perfect accompaniment to the swirl of brooding thoughts in his head. Spotting the monolithian stone building ahead gave him little comfort, and he gripped the strap of his bag and steadied a hand on the sword at his hip. According to reports, bandits in the area often raided Garreg Mach for trinkets and treasures left behind in the mass evacuation, though five years out, there shouldn't be much activity. Still, he had to be cautious. He easily ducked under the metal draw-gate, rusted in a half-ajar position from years of disservice, and paced his way across the barren marketplace, its stalls stripped and cobblestones cracking, weeds sprouting in between. The tall entry door groaned and screeched as he shoved it open enough to squeeze through, and he entered the main hall, his footsteps echoing as he made his way inward, wary but not to the point of anxiety.

So many memories in this place, now caked in layers of dust and debris. Claude was never one for nostalgia, but he felt a twinge of sentimentality as he ascended the staircase and made his way into the entrance hall. Everywhere he looked, all he could see was Byleth. Byleth, talking with a group of his peers about some upcoming mission. Byleth, dashing by him with a wave, commenting she was on a, "quest," as she put it, for Seteth. Byleth, approaching him on a leisurely Saturday to offer him some tea with his tutoring, necessary after his abysmal performance on the last test. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you did poorly on purpose," she'd said, and, well...she was right. Tutoring meant extra time with Teach, after all, something he coveted. Back then, he reasoned it was to learn her secrets, to study her like a rat in a cage, to dissect her until he understood every whit of her. Now, however, he could see it for what it was: an oblivious teenage boy with a monstrous crush on his teacher.

He traversed the grounds, sparing a few seconds to glance around corners for safety, but as far as he could tell, the main portion of the Officer's Academy was deserted, thankfully. Not even birds perched here any more, the chill and the silence a sharp contrast to a place that once bustled with students, monks, and knights. Eventually, he arrived at his destination, descending the small staircase to the graveyard below.

"Hey there, you two," Claude said as he stopped before a large tombstone. Inscribed upon the monument were two names: the top one, worn away by time, with the year 1159; the bottom one, "Jeralt Eisner," and the year 1180. "Sad to say it's just me again," he continued, setting his belongings on the grass. "Hopefully she'll come see you again real soon." Bending his knees, he crouched on his toes before the grave, brushing aside the dead leaves and grime, along with the bouquet he had left last year, which crumbled into dust the moment he touched it. The process of cleaning took only a few minutes, the weeds and refuse removed until the stone sat fresh before him. Laying his purchased flowers atop the plinth, he rose, clapping his gloves to rid himself of stray grass. He stood silently, staring at the grave marker, a harsh breeze cutting through his clothing. "I don't suppose you could give me any clues on her whereabouts, could you?" he said, a bittersweet tilt to his lips. "...I guess that'd make it too easy for me, huh?" Eyes lidding, he exhaled through his nose in a stream of wintery smoke. "I'll bring her to visit as soon as I can, all right? Until then, just hang in there." With that stated, Claude bowed his head in respect before he turned to the staircase again.

* * *

The next stop on his rounds of the academy grounds was Byleth's room. He stared at the door for a brief moment—how many times had he stood outside this door, eager to see the woman on the other side—before he reached into his shirt collar. In the first year that Claude returned after the Battle at Garreg Mach, he had spent a fair amount of time scouring Seteth's office, hoping to find some of the, "contraband," reading material, be it about the Immaculate Ones, some record about Byleth's birth, or anything else of value. Sadly, his search proved fruitless in that regard, but he did find one very important item in Seteth's desk drawer: a ring of keys. Claude quickly discerned that this must be the set of master keys for the whole monastery, and while that prospect did evoke a bevy of ideas, when he really thought about it, only one room truly interested him. It took an agonizing amount of time, slotting keys over and over into the lock, but finally, he found it, the key he now retrieved from inside his shirt, dangling on a thin strip of leather cord. He told himself he would only hold onto it until Byleth returned, but in the meantime, he would keep it safe. Thus far, he'd done just that, always carrying the small key close to his heart.

It was a bit dustier than he'd left it the year prior, but that was to be expected. Otherwise, the room remained unchanged. Claude took a few steps inward, running his gloved fingers over the thin layer of dust on the back of the chair. Five years prior, he often found her at this very desk, grading papers or making lesson plans. He joined her many times, casually dropping on her bed and gabbing for hours about nothing in particular, trying to get a bead on her. At first, she merely hummed in reply. "Is that so?" "Hm, interesting." Slowly, though, her wall came down, and she turned to face him for these conversations. "Heh, that sounds like something you'd do." "Why am I not surprised you said that?" Eventually, she openly teased him during their talks, grinning right back at him. "Pff, well that was a dumb decision." "Honestly, Claude, what am I going to do with you?" Every time he entered this room, he reasoned with himself it was to learn Teach's secrets, and every time, he found himself contented and bolstered by their time together, to the point he bothered her for chats nearly every single day. Byleth never turned him away, though, which he took as a sign he was always welcome.

He spent the next two hours scrubbing her room from top to bottom, ridding it of dust and straightening things into order. Once the bedding hung on a clothesline to dry in the winter sun, he made his way back to the entrance hall. Seteth would probably murder him for making a campfire in the walkway, but Seteth wasn't around and the floors were tiled anyway, so Claude unapologetically stoked the fire as he broke a piece of jerky with his teeth. It wasn't much of a lunch, but he wanted to save the bulk of his provisions for tomorrow, hoping he'd have someone else to join him at the fireside. He sat there, perched on a stool in front of his fire, facing the main doors, Jeralt's journal—he never got the chance to return it to her—in his lap for entertainment, though he'd read it through so many times now that he could probably quote it from memory. If Byleth walked through that door, he wanted to be the first to know. Unfortunately, the day gave way to night with no visitors, and stretching, Claude doused his fire after a scant dinner to retire for the evening. As he climbed beneath the freshly-laundered sheets in Byleth's bed, he felt simultaneously exhausted and wide awake. Pulling the blankets up to his face, he inhaled deeply, releasing it as a sigh. All his hope, built up over the course of five years, rested on tomorrow.

As expected, however, he couldn't sleep. He tried, he truly did, cramming his eyes shut and willing his brain to shut up. Exhaustion pressed on his body like a physical weight, but despite this, he failed to succumb. Resigning himself to his fate, Claude drew one of the blankets around his shoulders, crammed his feet into his boots, hastily slung his sword belt around his hips (just in case), and exited into the cold night. He walked in silence, following wherever his feet led him, which in the end was the Goddess Tower. Once at the top, he seated himself on the ground, his face turning toward the stars once again, Byleth's comforter wrapped around him for warmth. Predictably, his mind drifted to the night of the ball, when he and Byleth stood in this same spot and made a wish. At the time, he hadn't taken the whole prospect very seriously, but tonight, the idea of sending a wish to the goddess, foolish though it was, lingered in his brain, until, grinning to himself, he sighed. What the hells, right?

"...I'm sure you know I'm not one to believe in gods, but...it's Sothis, right?" Claude said to the air, eyes cast toward the night sky. He chuckled, the corners of his lips twitching. "Though I suppose, since you're fused with Teach, I'm technically speaking to her outright, aren't I? That's super convenient for me, honestly." Feeling a bit ridiculous, he sat in silence for a bit, contemplating if he should even bother saying anything else. The stars overhead kept him company, but slowly, his grin faded, and he stared back at the cosmos with a somber, heavy expression. "I know Teach said after the two of you merged, she couldn't hear your voice any more, so I don't even know if you're out there to hear mine, but...just in case...just in case you can…" An anguish, mingled with sadness, washed over his face, his eyebrows tipped upward and furrowed. "Is there any way you could tell her to come back?"

Claude paused for a moment, a mirthless chuckle escaping him. "I know, I know, godless heathen that I am, turning to the gods when he's desperate," he admitted, shaking his head. "Smite me later for it if you like, but...we need her." He snorted. "Hells, who am I kidding, _I_ need her. Forget everyone else, this damn war, or whatever sort of destiny bullshit we both have." Clenching his jaw, he stared back at the heavens, resolute. "_I_ need her, and I don't really give a damn if that's selfish, sorry. I need to see her again. To see her smile with my own two eyes. To…" He sighed, eyelids drooping. "To tell her what I should've said that day. Tell her how much I care about her, how much...how much I love her." He'd never said it aloud before now, only quietly accepted it in his heart, and the admission, spoken forlorn and soft, finally gave his feelings substance. With a disparaging grin, he sighed, glancing up at the stars again. "Pretty pathetic, huh? Teach said you were kind of sassy, so I bet you must find me pretty funny right now." He tightened his grip on the ends of the blanket to maintain its wrap, ignoring the cold stinging in his cheeks, nose, and the tips of his ears. "Look, I know I'm just a man, same as anyone else, and I'm not one to believe in asking the gods for anything. My father always told me you should make your own way in the world, create your destiny with your own two hands. But…" A puff of huffed laughter hung in the night air for a few seconds. "After meeting Teach, I kind of had all of my views shaken in that regard. But I guess you know that, huh? I admit, I can't very well deny the existence of a goddess when she was sleeping inside Teach all that time, can I? Even if I don't know how you ended up there in the first place. So…" His expression softened, a brokenhearted man begging the night, the burning ache in his chest so intense that he struggled to breathe. "If you can do anything...if you have any power left at all...can you give her back to me? I swear, last thing I'll ever ask of you, you can count on that."

In the center of his view, unmistakable and bright, a star streaked across the night sky, a brief trail of light that made his face crack into a grin. "...Am I supposed to take that as a sign?" he snickered. "All right, all right. It's probably just a comet or something, but I'll buy it." Yawning, Claude rolled his neck. "Well, not that I haven't enjoyed our chat or anything, Sothis, but I suppose I really should get some sleep." He stood, an amused smile pointed at the sky. "After all, I've got an important reunion in the morning, right?" Eyes clouding, he nodded. "I sure hope so."


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:** Sorry for the delay; last week was...not great for me. But let's get our comfort on for all this hurt, oop.

* * *

_Watching for Comets_

A Fire Emblem Three Houses Story

Chapter Four

_Now that I see you, I'm frozen in time._

_All of your colors burst into life._

_I don't dare close my eyes,_

'_cause a love like this happens once in a lifetime._

It wasn't quite dawn when Claude awoke, groggy and disoriented in Byleth's bed, the blankets tangled around his body. Realization slowly slipped through his drowsy stupor, and stretching, he escaped the warmth of his blanket cocoon and put his feet on the floor. This was it. Years of waiting, and finally, the day had arrived. He dressed in silence, heart beating a fierce tempo in his ribs, stomach drawing tight with anticipation. Even the bitter cold weather didn't flag his spirits, and glancing up at the light creeping on the horizon, he decided to watch the sunrise in the Goddess Tower. Afterward, he'd head to the entry hall to wile away the day, waiting for someone—for Byleth—to walk through the door. Climbing the tower steps felt effortless, his mind a cacophony of thoughts, until at last, he stood at the vista that overlooked Fódlan, the sky painted a gorgeous swirl of pinks and purples as the sun crested the horizon. Claude had seen many a sunrise in his life, each one bringing hope for a new day, but something about the one this morning captured his focus, maybe because this particular dawn held so _much_ of his hope. He truly did love Fódlan. It had its rough edges and its dark secrets, but moments like this, standing awash in dawn's light and looking out over the grassy hills and the forests beyond, reminded him why he stayed these long five years, instead of slipping back to Almyra without a word. He wanted to save this land, the land where his mother was born, the land...where Byleth was born. Those two women, held dearly in his heart, had struggled in this place, possibly fled because of its obstinence. Claude wanted to change that, to make Fódlan a land of understanding and goodwill—a land of hope. A land those two women could both return to without worry.

Preoccupied with the view and his own musings, he didn't hear the footsteps in the stairwell until the source stood at the precipice.

Movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention, and Claude turned his head, startled. Time slammed to a halt, his heart freezing along with it, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe entirely. Byleth stared back at him, probably just as wide-eyed and slack-jawed as him. She took a few hesitant steps into the light, and his stomach swooped. There she was, the literal woman of his dreams, looking exactly as he remembered her, standing in the glow of the morning, the sun catching in her seafoam hair, a burst of color in his hitherto dulled world. If he blinked, would she vanish? Was this just a dream, and would he wake up in Byleth's bed in a few seconds, alone and lovesick again? The ridiculous prospect kept his eyes open until they burned, until he finally dared to close them. To his relief, she remained when he opened them again, tilting her head in that curious, studying way he adored.

Byleth's eyebrows flinched upward, recognition overtaking her features, and in a quiet voice, she said, "...Claude?"

A grin, broader and more joyful than he'd ever expressed in his entire life, curled his lips, a fire roaring in his chest. She was here. She was really here. He owed a certain goddess gratitude now, didn't he? The look on Hilda's face would be _priceless_ later, and he couldn't wait to grin smugly at her from behind Byleth's shoulder. Not the time to think about that, though. He needed to say something, _anything_. His mind came up empty, though, and the knee-jerk reply he gave her was more sarcastic than he wanted. "You overslept, Teach. Pretty rude to keep a fella waiting like that. Wouldn't you say?" Blinking, she gaped at him in astonishment, and Claude chuckled as he paced toward her, adding, "What's with that surprised look, my friend?" He stood opposite her, grin vibrant, and he cocked a sly eyebrow. "You didn't really think I'd given up on you coming back. Did you?"

She looked a bit disoriented previously, but she beamed back at him now, that same playful glint he'd waited five years to see in her eyes. "Not at all," she said, cheek dimpling with her smirk. "After all, I'm stuck with you, aren't I?"

Claude broke into a laugh, running his fingers through his hair in nervous reflex, so overwhelmed by her presence that he reacted genuinely for once. He stared at her a moment in silent appreciation, until slowly, his eyes glossed, a sharp contrast to his smile. "Y...You're really here…" he said, reaching out to touch her cheek, just to assure himself she was real and whole and not a hallucination, and he immediately cursed his gloves in his brain, because they robbed him of the feel of her skin against his fingertips.

"Claude?" Byleth said, eyebrows knitting with concern.

She clearly discerned his rapid unraveling, he realized, so he surrendered to it, arms sweeping around her and pulling her to his chest. As he buried his face in her shoulder, he let out a shaky sob in her ear. "I never gave up...even when everyone told me I should...and here you are, Teach…" Voice quaking with each admission, Claude swallowed, tears burning in his eyes, discarded down his cheeks as he blinked. "Here you are…"

Hesitant arms curled underneath his, her hands clinging to the back of his shirt. "Here I am," Byleth said into the crook of his neck. "Right where I should be."

A half-laugh, half-sob escaped him, and he sniffed loudly. "Gods...Gods, I've missed you, Byleth."

She sat back at that, gazing up at him with a look of guilt, as if seeking forgiveness. She thumbed one of the tears that streaked his cheeks, palm remaining there afterward. "I'm so sorry," she said, a pained look in her eyes. "I don't...I…"

"No need, Teach," Claude said, his forehead finding hers and eyes shutting, finally relieved of a weight he'd carried for far too long. "I've got a million questions to ask you, but I just…" He blew out a quivering exhale, his thoughts abandoning him.

"Of course," Byleth said. Thumb caressing his cheekbone, she nudged her forehead against his. "As long as you need. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

If Claude compared his overall mood from the previous night to tonight, he fully admitted he had propelled from a two to a twenty-two or more in a very scant amount of time. The day's events whirred in his brain: reuniting with Byleth at a picturesque dawn; the mystery of where she'd truly been the past five years; fighting alongside her again, the pair of them working in perfect sync across the battlefield like a dance; joining forces again as one by one, the Golden Deer arrived as promised; Hilda's annoyed apology, despite the overjoyed look in her eye; the impromptu decision to stay in Garreg Mach; and the slow trickle of more allies throughout the day's cleanup, until the bulk of their honorary Golden Deer from the Empire and Kingdom stood in their ranks as well, with word that the rest were en route. So much activity in so little time overwhelmed him, denying him sleep yet again, though this time for completely different reasons. He leaned against the stone sill outside the Academy dormitories, neck arched toward the sky as always. Grinning with contentment rather than bitterness for the first time in a very, _very_ long time, he chuckled.

"I guess I owe you thanks now, huh?" he said, raising a sly eyebrow. "I admit it, you came through this time. Don't get used to me asking for favors, though. Can't change a man that easily."

"...Who are you talking to, Claude?"

Spooked, he whirled around, eyes bulging and cheeks flooding with heat. "T...Teach!" he yelped, because indeed, Byleth stood a short distance across from him, dressed in flannel pajamas, her usual jacket draped on her shoulders. "I...myself. I was talking to myself." He shrugged, arms out to make the gesture more dramatic, grinning wryly. "You caught me red-handed."

Humming a bit in amusement, Byleth joined him at the wall, crossing her arms atop it. "And what conversation are you having with yourself here in the dead of night, Mr. von Riegan?" she asked with a shrewd smile, stolen from him long ago.

Claude's cheek dimpled with his smirk as he settled his arms beside hers, their elbows practically touching. "Oh, you know me," he said casually. "Always planning five steps ahead, scheming about this or that. Takes a lot of self-conversations." She tilted her head and looked at him with that blank stare he knew judged his very soul, and he sighed, a faint grin of surrender on his lips. "All right, I get it," he said, shooting her an endeared, impish glance. His gaze lifted upward again, his profile to her as he faced the sky. "The truth is, I was talking to the stars, I guess."

"The stars?" she repeated, looking up as well.

"Yeah," he said with a fond grin. "When I was young and had a rough time, I'd go out at night and lose myself in the ocean of lights above me. They never wavered or judged me, just blinked back in silence, making all my worries seem small. For a kid like me, that meant a lot." He paused, weighing his words before continuing. "I'm sure you probably already figured this out, but I wasn't born in Fódlan, Teach."

"You're from Almyra," Byleth said succinctly, so definitive that he turned to her, visibly gobsmacked. Smirking, she locked eyes with him. "Whenever I gave you grunt work, you'd curse about me under your breath in Almyran, thinking I couldn't hear you," she said. "Also, the braid you used to wear," she said, indicating the spot on her own head, "that's an Almyran tradition. Boys wear them until they reach adulthood, so I knew from the moment we met you at least had a connection there. I remember asking my father about those when we lived in Almyra."

"Y...You lived in Almyra, Teach?" he said, even more flabbergasted.

Byleth arched an eyebrow, a disbelieving smile creasing her cheek. "I'm an ex-mercenary, Claude. You go where the money is. That includes across the border, even if we had to smuggle our way through the mountains to get there. I lived in Almyra for about eighteen moons when I was…eleven, maybe twelve? We moved all over the region during that time, taking work wherever we found it, until ultimately returning to Fódlan."

Swallowing, Claude processed this information, the gears in his mind clearly turning. "So if I were to...for example," he said, licking his bottom lip, "[say something crude in my native language, you'd pick up on it? Or do you only know basic phrases?]" The flowy nature of Almyran felt a bit foreign in his mouth after years of disuse (he and Nader felt it best to refrain in case of eavesdroppers), but he slipped into it with a grace only possible with a birth language. He looked at her expectantly, a flirty, capricious glint in his eyes and in his smile.

Undeterred, Byleth stared back at him, a challenging twitch to her eyebrows. Taking a ceremonious breath, she said, "[My father was fluent in many languages, Claude, and he taught me to speak at least three from birth: Fódlanese, Almyran, and Duscaran. Knowing them increased our chances for work, not to mention helped translate any enemy chatter or intercepted notes.]" She grinned smugly back at him, her eyes lidding in satisfaction. "[And I heard plenty of foul things along the way as a mercenary. I doubt you could unsettle me.]"

She had a non-distinct accent with the faintest Fódlan lilt, the same as his mother, but she clearly knew the language to a nuanced degree. Claude shivered for a reason wholly unrelated to the cold. Dissembling, he chuckled, "[Remind to to test that later.]"

"[By all means.]" They stood in amicable silence after that, grinning at each other in understanding, until Byleth looked up at the sky again. "So what were you telling the stars when I interrupted you?"

Claude flubbed air through his lips, attention returning above them. "Oh, I don't know," he said, shrugging. "Thinking out loud, mulling over the day's events. That sort of thing."

Nodding, she hummed in agreement. "It's been quite the day, I suppose."

"For you especially, I'd imagine," he teased, nudging her elbow with his own. "I'd be shocked if I woke up from a five year nap."

Byleth huffed through her nose, pouting. "It's not like I intended to vanish for so long," she said, eyebrows furrowed. "I don't really even know if I was asleep, or if I have some sort of...amnesia blocking out the last several years, or—"

"Byleth," Claude laughed, "I was kidding."

She studied him for a moment, expression unreadable. "...You know, before today, I'd never heard you use my name. I was a little startled when you said it this morning. I've always been, 'Teach.'"

Squirming a bit, he swallowed. "If it's weird, I'm fine with not—"

"No, I like it."

He blinked, taken aback by her earnestness. Byleth smiled at him, eyes matching that warmth, and combined with her chill-tinted cheeks and nose, she stole his breath with her beauty once again. Lips curling, Claude turned to face her, leaning against the wall as his elbow propped him. "Well, okay then. Though," he added, winking, "if it's all the same to you, I think I'll hang onto Teach just a bit longer."

"Good," said Byleth, mirroring his repositioning. Her smile fell a bit, a somber undertone to it. "Everything has changed so much, and all of you have grown in what for me feels like overnight." She looked up at him, her lips curving again, a soft, affectionate flicker in her eyes. "So it would be nice to have at least one thing stay the same." Claude stared at her, still smiling, but in that way that failed to reach his eyes and masked a deeper thought. Deciding to give him a moment to chew on it, Byleth continued. "It was so strange, waking up to discover five years had passed," she said, tilting her head a bit. "I admit, I almost didn't recognize you this morning."

Eyebrows frowning and lips flattening into an incredulous line, Claude hmphed a chuckle. "Have I really changed that much?"

"Nn, quite a bit," she said. Hand reaching across, she ran her fingers down his jawline, a gentle touch that rippled a shudder through him. "Your face is sharper, and you're not as scrawny as you used to be," she said, winking when he frowned disapprovingly at her. She scritched her nails against his beard, adding, "This is new, too."

Shutting his eyes, he grinned broadly. "Yeah, so it is," he sighed. "Hilda keeps telling me it looks horrible and I should shave it off, but I'm kind of attached to it—"

"Then don't," Byleth said, continuing to trace the line of hair with her fingers. Biting a corner of her lips, she beamed at him. "I like it. It makes you look handsome."

Clearly regretting this admission, her eyes darted bashfully away for a second before returning, a motion so excessively adorable that he wanted to melt on the spot. She attempted to withdraw her hand from his cheek, but he reflexively caught it, pressing it back in place. Leaning into her palm, he grinned at her. "I've missed you, Teach," he said quietly. Chuckling, he added, "A whole damn lot."

They stood in silence for a moment, Claude's eyes closed as he rested his cheek against her hand, his own gloved fingers holding her to him. Byleth traced absently against his cheek for a bit before she spoke again. "Actually, Claude, I'm glad I ran into you here. I was on my way to ask you something when I spotted you."

Eyes drifting open, he gave her an attentive smile. "Oh yeah? What's on your mind, Teach?"

"This afternoon, after we all broke into cleaning teams, I took a second to go to the cemetery," she said, staring sincerely at him. "I wanted to clean my parents' grave before anything else, but...not only was it already cleaned, but someone left flowers. Recently, at that; they're still fresh."

"A-Ah, is that so?" Claude said, swallowing. Everything in him begged the chill of the night to keep his warming cheeks frosty. "It was probably Leonie; she'd absolutely do something like that."

"I thought so too, but then I remembered that after Petra arrived, she and Leonie went out to hunt for dinner, and that was while we were in the middle of dividing chores around the monastery. And we stuck together after the battle, so she wouldn't have had time."

"She still could have snuck away for a second and done it," Claude suggested, gut coiling.

"I asked her at dinner about it, but she said it wasn't her," Byleth said, her gaze unnervingly even. "Everyone else said the same. But it's more than just that. When I went to my room to clean it, the door was unlocked, which made me worry it'd been pillaged in the interim, but everything was as I left it."

"Well that's a mercy," he said, sweat beading at his hairline. Keep cool, Claude, keep cool…

"Even more curious, the room and even my bedding smelled like soap, and there wasn't a trace of dust or cobwebs anywhere," she said, eyes boring a hole into him. "I went straightway to my room after the cemetery, so no one could've done all that so quickly."

"S-Sounds like we should be on the lookout for a bandit squatting in your room, Teach," Claude said, avoiding eye contact. "One with obsessive cleaning habits."

Byleth's eyes narrowed. Removing her hand from his grasp, she reached into the chest pocket of her pajamas. "Lastly, there was this."

Looking down into her open hand between them, Claude made a small grunt of panic in his throat. His very unique earring sat in the center of her palm, and his hand instinctively raised to its unnoticed absence in his ear, a clear indicator of his guilt.

"Looks like you forgot something on my desk when you left this morning," Byleth said with a smug grin. "Care to explain why you slept in _my_ bed of all places, Claude?"

"Listen, it's not what you're thinking," he said, tensing more as Byleth folded her arms and arched an eyebrow, still smirking at him. "I decided to get your room in order because...because I always knew you were coming back, and I thought I'd do you a favor. After that, I was too lazy to clean my own room, so I decided to just use yours. I swear, it's not as weird as you think it is."

"I didn't say it was weird, Claude," she said, entertained by his flustering. Smile softening, she added, "Mostly, I just wanted to thank you."

"Y...Yeah?"

"I don't know why you did all those things, but it means a lot that you did," she said, resting her hand aside his collarbone. "So thank-you."

Claude studied her for a moment, something heavy in his gaze. Without a word or a glance away, he stripped his gloves, tossing them on the ground, his bare hand warm as it overlapped hers on his chest. "The reason why is actually pretty simple, Teach," he said gently, drawing her hand down between them and cradling it in his palms, turned upward. He ran his thumbs over the center, lidded eyes transfixed on the motions. "It's like I've said several times today: I've missed you, Byleth. The past five years, they...they haven't been great." His eyes flitted up to hers as he grinned weakly, adding, "Which, I know, massive understatement." Pausing, his eyes fell to their hands again, face slipping back into a contemplative frown. "Hilda scolded me just last week for doing, as she put it, 'the bare minimum,' to keep the Alliance out of this war and in one piece. She's not the first to say it, either. I've heard it whispered in corridors and yelled in my face during round tables over the years. And the thing is, they're all absolutely right." He traced the lines of her palm, shoulders flagging. "I've done nothing but dodge conflicts and hold the line since my grandfather died."

"That doesn't sound like you at all," Byleth said, wresting her hand from his grasp and returning it to his cheek. "The Claude von Riegan I know would've charged in with a scheme or four up his sleeve," she said, ducking her head to catch his lowered gaze and smiling coyly at him.

Chuckling mirthlessly, he closed his eyes. "Yeah, he probably would have," he sighed.

"What changed?" she asked, thumb caressing his cheek in comfort.

He looked up at her, eyes shining with intensity in the starlight. "I lost you."

The gravity of that statement hung in the air for an agonizing amount of time, both of them staring into each other's eyes in a wordless conversation all its own. Byleth, shocked and remorseful, gazing back with fully-open eyes, and Claude, ardent and resolute, considering her with a powerful gaze. Gradually, Byleth's eyebrows creased her forehead, eyelids hooding incrementally, her hand sliding down his face to a neutral position at her side. "...That shouldn't have matter—"

"It did to me," Claude said sharply, cutting her off with firmness rather than bite. "Teach...no. _Byleth_. You _have_ to know how important you are. Everyone here, every one of your Golden Deer, came today because of you. Because we believed in you." He sighed, eyes downcast for a moment of thought. "This war took a toll on all of us," he said bleakly. "But losing you, not knowing if you were alive or dead...that hurt the most." Meeting her eyes again, he gave her a somber frown. "You had such an impact on all of us. Hells, on me, especially." His eyebrows tipped as she stared back at him with a mask of impassiveness. "You knew that, didn't you?"

"I...I suppose…" she faltered, rubbing her arm.

Claude frowned, genuinely troubled by her apparent uncertainty. How could he best explain it? A thought surfaced, and his lips twitched. "Tell me, Teach: have you ever heard of comets?"

Brow furrowing, she tilted her head. "Comets?"

"Yeah."

"Like...shooting stars you see in the sky?"

"That's the general idea, but comets are a bit more special than that," he explained, the corners of his mouth easing upward. "Comets, my dear Professor, are shooting stars that linger in the night sky for a while before ultimately vanishing. However, they usually return again after a period of time has passed. Astronomers have studied them throughout history, tracking their patterns as they appear and disappear in somewhat reliable cycles. Some cultures even observe their arrival as a shift in eras of history or as a religious period."

"Not that this isn't fascinating, Claude," Byleth said, that playful curl returning to her lips, "but what are you getting at?"

Smile tender, Claude reached across and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone before resting against the side of his palm. "You were my comet, Byleth," he said, tone gentle. "You emerged out the aether like an enigma, changed my life and my understanding of everything, and then...I lost you. And I've spent the past five years watching, waiting, _hoping_ to catch a glimpse of that light again, because without it, I couldn't take another step forward." His other hand found hers and curled around it. "Back home in Derdriu, there's a table in my study, absolutely covered with maps of all sorts—topography, seasonal shifts, trade routes, you name it—but there's one in particular that's most important to me: a complete map of the world. Not just Fodlan, but every continent around the globe. Of all the maps on that table, that one received the bulk of my attention since I first spread it out five years ago. It's also the messiest, cross marks and notes scribbled from corner to corner. And every single one of those crosses…" He swallowed. "...eliminates a location I sent scouts on search, scouts who ultimately returned with nothing. Not even a whisper of you."

Byleth's lips parted soundlessly, her eyes reflecting moonlight, and Claude's smile broadened a fraction, his hand slipping from her cheek to gently grip her chin between his fingers. "I exhausted every connection I had, both here and abroad. I sent search parties deep into foreign heartlands, not even knowing if they'd return. But every time, their news was the same, and with every report, I fell deeper into...a depression, I guess," he said, sighing. "I knew that I needed you, not just to end this war, but…" He took a breath, jaw clenching. "...I needed you for my own selfish reasons. Having you by my side makes me feel invincible, and I'm at my best when you and I are together. Without you, Byleth, I'm just a foolish man with big dreams, bigger problems, and no clue how to parse any of it. It sounds easy enough to say now, but it took me an embarrassing amount of time to sort that out. But I've had plenty of time to realize that, and to realize what I felt five years ago but didn't say because I didn't recognize it for what it was." Expression softening, he smiled, affectionate and authentic. "I love you, Byleth. With everything I am. I loved you five years ago, and I love you now, even after all the time we've been apart."

A tense silence in which Byleth stared at him, breathless, followed, until Claude's knees buckled, and he turned to slump over the wall, crossing his arms over his head. "Oh my gods, I finally said it_,_" he echoed from inside his arm barrier, voice a wobbly murmur. "_Oh shit_, I said it. I'm an idiot, we don't have time for this! You just came back, and to you, I'm probably still your smartass student, why did I think this was a good idea, fuck—"

"You were my favorite student, though."

Her words, spoken simply and quiet, pulled him out of his spiral, and he stood straight, turning to her. Byleth stared back at him, her face unnervingly unreadable. He swallowed. "I...Yeah, I guess I was."

"Whenever I needed something done, or was uncertain about a strategy, or needed…" She stopped, taking a steadying breath, her eyes lidding. "Or needed a shoulder to cry on, like after my father died...there was only one person I turned to, one person I knew I could rely on above anyone else." Her hands found his, curling her fingers around them. "I was your teacher, Claude, but _you_ taught _me_ more than I ever taught you. Before we met, I wandered through life, following every order given to me, migrating from country to country, sometimes begging for work or, worse, for food. My days blurred together, until I honestly had no idea how old I was or even _where_ I was, not that it mattered to me. I was...numb. I rarely _felt_ anything, and most of my thoughts revolved around completing tasks, eating when hungry, sleeping when tired. The only dreams I had were of Sothis, though I didn't know it at the time.

"Agreeing to teach at Garreg Mach wasn't something I thought about, either," she said. "I was asked, I accepted, not fully grasping what being a professor actually meant. When it came time to pick a House, I decided I'd choose whichever was listed first—that would be easiest, after all. I didn't like making choices. Choices required thinking for myself, and I didn't do a lot of that. Well, I guess it's more accurate to say that I _couldn't_ do that. For whatever reason, I was completely incapable of independent thought or human emotion. So as I stood there, faced with a choice, something I'd never done before, I thought I'd pick what was easiest." She looked up at him, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips. "But then I had a thought. A small, seemingly insignificant thought, the first I'd ever truly had beyond basic human needs or battle tactics." Byleth tipped her head a fraction, a studying, perplexed wrinkle on her forehead. 'He always has a smile on his face,' I thought, 'but it never reaches his eyes. I wonder why?'" She smiled fondly. "That one curiosity made my decision clear.

"At first, I was overwhelmed by the lot of you," she said, arching a coy eyebrow. "I remember watching all of you in a group one day, observing your rowdy chatter and various displays of emotion, and I remember thinking what I always thought in those situations: 'All that energy looks exhausting. I'm glad I have the focus to stay on task.'" Byleth drew circles with her thumbs on the backs of his palms, contemplating. "But I wasn't focused," she said, shaking her head. "I was..._muted_. Stunted in every area that makes someone human. Growing up, I always knew I wasn't normal. Enough comments on how strange it is for a little girl to not emote, and you kind of catch the hint. But I never thought I was _strange_, just...different from everyone else. Looking back on it now, I can see that in truth, I was dead inside." Retracting her right hand, she placed it over her chest. "When you consider I lack a heartbeat, it's fitting, in its own way. I had nothing inside me." She paused. "In fact, Sothis told me as such. Whenever we met in dreams, we always stood in a black void. I think...I think that represented what I was. Empty."

Byleth sighed, hand slipping down and finding his again. "Even today, I…" Eyebrows puzzled, she frowned. "The first thing I remember after the battle five years ago is a voice, cutting through the darkness all around me. I didn't recognize it at first, but thinking about it now...I'm sure it was Sothis, calling into the void for me like before. She said...She said, 'You've slept so long that someone is pestering me about you, so wake up.'"

She startled when Claude erupted with laughter, his hand slapping his forehead. Wheezing, he attempted to compose himself, hand waving apologetically. "S-Sorry, that caught me off guard," he said, still giggling. "I'll e-explain later, I promise." Clearing his throat, he straightened and took both of her hands again, affecting a more serious expression, though hints of his outburst remained on his lips. "P-Please, continue, Teach."

Eyeing him skeptically, Byleth frowned. "In any case, I probably would have spent my entire life that way, never knowing anything different, never feeling anything at all." She paused, staring into his eyes, until a small smile broke her melancholy. "But then I met you, and slowly, I started to think about things other than the task ahead of me. Each of you shaped this change in me, but," her smile broadened, "you absolutely played the biggest role in that, Claude. You taught me how to smile, to laugh, to actually enjoy life instead of simply walk through it. It's because of you that I think and feel so many things now." Biting the inside of her lip, Byleth took a breath through her nose. "And...you taught me probably the most important lesson I've ever had, most likely without meaning to." Her hands squeezed his. "You taught me what love is, and how it feels to love someone with all your strength."

Stunned silence. Claude had of course always hoped for this outcome, even planned a list of quips for it, but faced with her confession, with Byleth's affectionate smile, words left him. The way her head tipped to the side and her grin broadened didn't help matters. Slowly, though, his face brightened as the thought finally sank in, and just like this morning, his arms swept around her for an embrace, the pair of them holding tightly to each other for a quiet moment.

Claude leaned his head into hers, a light huff through his nose indicating amusement. "You had a crush on a student? How scandalous, Teach."

"Says the man who had a crush on his teacher."

"Heh, true, true, you've got me there."

"I just knew that as your professor, I couldn't do anything about it," Byleth said against his neck. "Not until later, at least."

Grinning, Claude turned and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Looks like you took the short route to later," he said, lips remaining against her skin. "Awfully rude of you to make me take the long way."

Byleth pulled back to look into his eyes, smiling soft and coy. "I suppose I'll have to find a way to apologize," she said, repositioning her arms around his neck. Fingers slipping slightly into his hair, she arched her face and leaned in a bit. "Have any ideas?"

With a broad grin, Claude ducked into her, replying, "Just one, if you're interested."

"Absolutely," she said, smirking against his lips as they met.

For that beautiful, earnest, long-awaited moment, all the world melted away, nothing but the warmth of their lips and their tightly-held embrace remaining. One kiss was absolutely not enough, and Claude sighed an unnoticed held breath through his nose, trading one after another in a release of pent-up affection, an apparently mutual emotion, judging by the firm press of Byleth's fingers against the back of his head, pulling him closer with each caress. Her lips soft on his, her body like fire against his chest, the sweet taste of her as mouths opened and tongues passionately met, the chill of the night an ignored thought, the gentle scent of her filling his nose...not a single one of his dreams of this compared to the relief and the joy and the _desire_ that washed over him. They surrendered so much to the moment that neither of them noticed the flash of light that streaked across the night sky, as if blessing them. Tomorrow, when the stars gave way to dawn, they'd have to face the road before them: a continent ravaged by war, an army to build, supplies to procure, schemes to plan. But just for now, for this brief blip in the flow of time, none of that mattered. Nothing but Byleth and the need to consume her with all of his being existed.

He'd never lose sight of his Fell Star again.

_You burn so bright, you burn me up tonight_

* * *

Thank-you so much for reading! Just a note, I have my fics more organized (and tagged!) over on AO3 if you care to find me there (same username). Pretty soon, I may be migrating to there exclusively, so I thought I'd make note!


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